


Promise Not to Fix It

by perspi



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Massage, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-10
Updated: 2016-06-10
Packaged: 2018-07-14 07:38:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7160381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/perspi/pseuds/perspi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Someday Sam will learn not to challenge serum-enhanced supersoldiers to weightlifting contests. Today is not that day.</p>
<p>(In which Sam is hurting, and Bucky makes it better. Which is really only reinforcing Sam's terrible choices.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Promise Not to Fix It

**Author's Note:**

> This is all Kit's fault.

Sam groans, long and ostentatious, as he settles into the deep couch cushions. He doesn’t even bother to kick his feet up onto the ottoman-coffee-table-thing, because he _hurts_.

Bucky doesn’t turn from the tv but Sam catches him cutting a glance at Sam’s knees. “Are…you okay?”

Sam drops his head back against the couch and sighs, “M’fine. Just, leg day was Monday.” He doesn’t generally hurt the next day, but a hard workout always catches up with him a couple days later.

Bucky snorts. “You challenged Steve to squats again, didn’t you?”

“It’s like the man forgets he’s got a whole fucking  _lower half_ , goddamn, did nobody ever…” and Sam starts to stumble as his thoughts finally catch up with his mouth, “…teach him anything about…” Bucky starts to laugh, and Sam can’t do more than heave out another sigh. “Oh, _shit_ , I think I just made myself sad.”  


Bucky sits up and leans into Sam’s line of vision. He’s visibly struggling to straighten out his expression. “It’s a good thing he’s got you to show him. You know, how to properly use the equipment.”

“Go fuck yourself,” Sam grumbles as Bucky full-on  _grins_.  


“I gotta better idea,” Bucky says before he tugs on Sam’s hand. “C’mon, lie flat.”  


Sam lets his discomfort at the manhandling out in theatrical groaning, but he gets the picture by the time Bucky’s got him laid out the length of the couch and he can’t say he’s not on board with the plan. The first few passes of Bucky’s hands up and down the long muscles of his back feel _heavenly_ , and then Bucky settles his weight on a knee between Sam’s thighs and his hands spread low over Sam’s hips.

“Where does it hurt?” Bucky asks softly, and Sam just sort of waves the hand that’s hanging off the couch. “Everywhere?”

“Mmmm.”  


“Well, let’s see if we can’t fix that.” Sam’s surprised when Bucky’s weight pulls away, but then there’s a pair of hands running up one calf, digging in just right against the Achilles tendon and up along the muscle to the back of his knee. Sam lets out an appreciative breath. “Yeah?” Bucky asks.

“Very much, yeah,” Sam agrees, so Bucky keeps going.

By the time he spreads his big hands up and down Sam’s thighs, Sam has stopped trying to hold in any sound. Bucky uses the metal hand almost like a foam roller, digging into the knots and holding his weight against them until they release and Sam has to gasp and groan. It hurts, but in a good way, because the very next moment Bucky’s got both hands kneading the whole muscle, from his knee to just below his ass. It's long minutes of this treatment, first one thigh and then the other, before Bucky declares his hamstrings knot-free.

Sam mumbles his thanks into the couch cushions. “Maybe I will be able to walk again tomorrow.”

Bucky’s laugh this time is low and dirty, and his hands slide up to knead the soreness out of Sam’s glutes. “I didn’t say I’d fix _that_ , now did I?”

“That a promise, Barnes?” Sam’s muscles burn pleasantly now, instead of just hurting, and that low voice lights liquid fire up his spine. Sam arches up into that touch, loving the way Bucky’s thumbs hook under his cheeks and pull him apart a little as he works. He was low-grade aroused just from the massage, and as Bucky squeezes his ass he's rolling Sam's hips down into the cushion below him, giving him just enough friction on his dick for it to feel really fucking good.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Bucky groans, and suddenly he’s tugging Sam’s shorts and briefs down just below the curve of his ass, getting hands and breath on bare skin. “I don’t think I can wait that long to make you come,” he growls, and then he sets his teeth into the muscle of one cheek, sliding one hand along Sam’s balls and up to grip his cock, pressing the thumb of the metal hand up tight against his perineum.  


Sam can’t help the way he cries out, hunching up to rut hard into the grip on his cock. Bucky’s weight is solid across the backs of his legs, his breath hot across the skin of his ass. Sam can’t quite tell what feels better, the heat of Bucky’s teeth in one cheek or the kneading of Bucky’s fingers in the other, and it doesn’t take long before he’s coming apart.

Bucky loosens his grip with both hands but doesn’t move them away. He presses a kiss into the teeth marks and then just sort of…uses Sam’s ass as a pillow. Sam can feel Bucky’s hair spilling over his hip as Bucky heaves a contented sigh. 

“You comfortable, man?” Sam asks and gently rocks his hips, just to feel the way Bucky’s curled up around him.  


“Mmm, gimme a minute.”

Sam's got the sole of one bare foot pressed against a hard line of heat at Bucky's groin, and his dick gives a halfhearted little twitch in Bucky's easy hold. "Yeah, what's in a minute?"

Bucky rubs his thumb up against Sam's perineum and lays a kiss just at the base of Sam's spine. "I'm gonna make sure you can't walk tomorrow, either."


End file.
